


Family Expansion

by DreamingPagan



Series: Graced [11]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: And things change for Max, Gen, I'm indulging the need to see her safe and happy whatever way that can happen, In Which Mr. Noonan Gets What's Coming To Him, and not to end up in a brothel at what I'm pretty sure was waaaaaaaaay too young, but she deserved to have a childhood, look I respect the hell out of canon Max and her strength, so while I appreciate canon allowing her to save herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:45:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15598575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingPagan/pseuds/DreamingPagan
Summary: A crash in the kitchen heralds a change in the household - and a shaking up of Nassau politics.Or, Anne meets Max a little early and Mr. Noonan gets what he's earned.





	Family Expansion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sirenswhisper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirenswhisper/gifts).



There is a crash in the store room, and Miranda knows that something is afoot.

“Hello?” she calls, and hears cursing. 

“Where the fuck did I put it? Gotta be here somewhere, don’t have the fucking time for this -” 

Odd as it sounds, Miranda relaxes. She has had a great many calls to action since her somewhat unexpected arrival on this island. More than once she has risen from bed, frying pan and later sword in hand, and given the latest marauding pirate something to fear besides her husband and fathers-in-law, but today - today, it appears, the marauding pirate is Anne, and somehow, she cannot even find it in her to be upset. She opens the door, and raises an eyebrow when Anne whirls, long carving knife in hand, the other going to the sword on her belt. 

“If there’s a rat in the chicken coop again, I suspect Admiral can handle it,” she says mildly, and Anne returns to rummaging. 

“There’s a rat alright, in the biggest henhouse on the island,” she answers, and Miranda’s other eyebrow joins the first.

“Is there something amiss?” she asks, and Anne turns back to her. Miranda is startled to see absolute fury mixed with a kind of anguish on Anne’s face.

“Just went by there this morning,” she says. “I was looking for Mr. McGraw - had some stuff to talk about for Charles, and I saw Noonan and -” 

She turns around again, and resumes her task. 

“Can’t let it happen,” she says. “Might have done, maybe, ‘fore I knew you, but I can’t ignore this-”

“Ignore what?” Miranda asks, stepping forward. Anne is breathing hard, hands clenched around the box of supplies she’s in the process of displacing, searching no doubt for the dagger she had left here the last time she’d come. 

“There’s a kid,” she says finally. “Scrawny looking thing, frightened as they come, and if I don’t do something about it, Noonan’ll make her - he’ll let them -” 

She clenches her fist harder, bites her lip, ducks her head - does everything, in short, to hide the fact that she is seconds away from weeping. 

“Can’t be any older’n I was,” she says at last, and Miranda does not hesitate. She gathers the girl into her arms, and for once Anne does not even attempt a token protest, simply allows it. 

“We will handle this together,” Miranda promises after a moment. 

Anne pulls back. 

“We’re going to handle it?” she asks incredulously. “You and me? You’re going to go in there and-”

“And see to it that Mr. Noonan learns his lesson, yes,” Miranda answers. “But first, I think a stop at the docks is called for. “

The look of comprehension that crosses Anne’s face is good enough to set Miranda smiling the entire trip to where the Walrus lies at anchor.

********************************************

The brothel is remarkably empty all of a sudden, and the look on Mr. Noonan’s face ought to be recorded for posterity.

“This building,” Miranda says, in the most no-nonsense tone Anne has ever heard her use, “is now mine, and you, Mr. Noonan -”

“I would advise you leave,” James rumbles from beside her, and she gives him a smile. 

“Yes,” she says. “I believe that that would be advisable.” 

She turns to the shaken girl with the wide brown eyes and ill-fitting, threadbare dress that Anne has come to save, and her smile turns gentle. 

“Would you like to go home now?” Miranda asks, and the child looks up fearfully. She is a child, Anne thinks with a fresh wave of fury - no older than Anne herself, perhaps younger. She does not belong in this place - not on this island, certainly not in this fucking brothel.

“H-home?” she asks in a whisper, and Anne goes to her side, kneels there.

“Not here,” she says. “Different place. Cleaner, for a start. Food’s better too.”

“Hold on - you can’t just take the whore -” Noonan starts, and then he’s choking, clutching at his bits where James has rammed a knee into them. 

“Her name ain’t whore,” Anne mutters. She turns back to the girl. “Guessing it isn’t anyway,” she says, and the girl starts, stares - and then finally says something.

“My name is Max,” she says in a bare whisper, and Anne smiles.

“I’m Anne. That’s Mrs. Hamilton and the big scary-looking one’s Captain Flint,” she introduces. “An’ there’s lots worse places to be than their house - this place, for one.” 

Max does not speak. Instead, she stares, and Anne begins to cast about for things to say.

“There’s cats there,” she offers after a second. “And chickens and all - pets, you know? The beds are all soft but you’ll get used to that -”

“Beds?” Max whispers, and Anne tries to resist the urge to curse.

“Not like that,” she says. “I just meant - there’s someplace to sleep, and - Mrs. Hamilton’s got real nice clothes if you’re into that, maybe she could -”

There. That, Anne thinks, has gotten a reaction - Max’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but there is definitely a flash of something that is not terror on her face. She looks to Miranda, and her eyes widen further, then she looks back to Anne. 

“You do not dress as she does,” she points out in a trembling voice, and Anne shoots her a crooked grin. 

“Fuck no,” she answers, and sees the corner of Max’s mouth lift a little.

“You will need new cloth for dresses before we can go home,” Miranda says softly from behind them, and Anne sees Max’s eyes widen further. 

“New cloth?” she mouths, and Miranda smiles. 

“Fresh off the bolt,” she promises, and then kneels next to the girl.

“You can stay here in Nassau if you would like,” she says. “But would you not rather have somewhere safer to go?” 

Behind them, there is a shuffling of feet, a shout of surprise, and then the sound of steel meeting flesh, and Anne doesn’t quite wince - just turns her head to find James standing, his sword firmly through Noonan’s chest, panting heavily.

“He decided to lunge at me,” he says, and gestures to the knife lying on the ground between them. 

“Good,” Anne says, and James smiles, and Miranda rolls her eyes as she turns around. 

“If you’re going to run people through, you could at least not do so on the floor of my new establishment,” she scolds. “Oh don’t look so surprised, you know I’ve been meaning to expand our holdings for some time now.”

“A brothel?” James asks incredulously.

“It’s the best source for information on the island, darling,” Miranda says absently. She stands, brushing off her skirts, and wrinkles her nose at the mess on the floor and the dead body. “I don’t suppose anyone has any suggestions on getting that cleaned up?” she asks, and James, still looking somewhat mystified, walks over and kisses her on the forehead before heading toward the door. 

“I’ll ask one of the men to take care of it,” he says, and steps out the door briefly to have a word with one of the men standing guard.  

“I’ll see you at the house,” he says when he turns back. He bows to Miranda and Max, clasps Anne by the forearm, and then releases her and turns away, heading toward the door. “Don’t forget to feed her,” he tells Miranda on his way out. 

Anne turns back to Max, and finds the other girl staring at James - or rather at his back, blocking the door for the moment. 

“He ain’t so scary once you seen him chasin’ a chicken,” Anne assures her, and Max looks up, startled and a little incredulous. 

“‘E is Captain Flint,” she whispers. “Mr. Noonan lies dead -”

“And now I believe you are in need of food, and your own things,” Miranda says quietly, and Max looks to her.

“My own - things?” she asks, and Miranda nods. 

“At your age I recall being quite enchanted with silks,” she says. “Would you prefer dresses, or trousers and shirts?”

Max looks at Miranda, and then to Anne, and for her part Anne is utterly unsurprised when the younger girl begins to cry. 

****************************************

They take her home without further ado, and later that day Miranda stops by Eleanor Guthrie’s tavern and leaves with a small stack of what appear to be Eleanor’s childhood dresses, given up willingly and with the addition of a small doll tucked in the pocket of one. 

“Eleanor -” she begins, and Eleanor’s nostrils flare.

“It’s Miss Guthrie,” she snaps, and then seems to think better of her words. 

“I’d rather not see it again,” she amends in a softer tone. “The same for the dresses.” She turns away, and Miranda can’t help but notice the way her fists ball at her sides and the determined way that she turns and strides back up the stairs. One day, Miranda thinks, she is going to have Words with Richard Guthrie - perhaps more, but for now she watches the girl go, and takes the proffered remnants of a childhood prematurely given up. She will come back another day - for now, there is another child who needs her attention. Two of them, in fact.

************************************************************************

There is a horse outside the door, and Miranda gives a groan.

It is Hennessey’s horse. She recognizes the plain brown mare that her father-in-law has named Trouble - she stands higher than Miranda’s own grey mare, and has a look in her eye that gives the proof that she’s been named aptly. 

Miranda hurries into the house. If she is very lucky, Hennessey will not have found the girl yet - Max needs time, and space, and a slow introduction to their slightly odd household, not -

Well. Then again, Miranda thinks - perhaps not.

She enters the house to find her assumptions overturned, and her family, such as it is, gathered around the newest member of the household - including one of the chickens. Max is sitting on a kitchen chair, wrapped in a blanket with the aforementioned bird in her lap, and Hennessey is sitting across from her on the same side of the table, and where before there was terror, now the younger girl appears to be smiling, albeit ever so slightly.

“...and then the rats rowed away in the launch, and left the burning ship and its crew to their fate,” the former admiral is saying, and behind him, James is making a rowing motion. 

“Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!” Thomas says from his position at James’ side, and when Max laughs - a soft, almost surprised little sound, but a laugh nonetheless, Anne can’t help but join in. 

“Miranda,” Hennessey says, “come. Join us.” He smiles, and gestures. “My French is atrocious, and I must say I’m less than certain of Thomas’ translations.” He winks at his son-in-law, and Thomas grins back.

“My translations are perfectly accurate!” he protests. 

“I distinctly heard you adding things,” James says dryly. “For instance, I know for a fact Tas said mice and you proceeded to say “squeaky little fuzzy mice who only wanted cheese.”” 

Thomas gives James his best innocent look, then crumbles.

“Oh alright,” he says. “But she’s a thirteen-year-old girl, not an admiralty court! When he stops giving a military report, I’ll stop adding things.”

Max looks between them, and Thomas turns his brilliant smile to her. 

“It’s quite alright,” he assures in perfect French. “James and I will talk it over later. Now - where were we?”

Yes, Miranda thinks- things are going to work out just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's wondering why Anne's decided to take a more active hand in fixing things she doesn't like - it's amazing what that girl gets up to when she knows that she's not going to get killed or hurt for doing it, and she's got the entire McGraw-Hamilton clan behind her here.
> 
> As usual - Tas is the Cornish word for father/dad and seems appropriate for James to use for Hennessey.


End file.
